


The Keep

by Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine



Series: in the air of the earth we are home [4]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: Arguing with Yourself, Childhood Trauma, Fun, Gen, Isolation, Minor Character Death, Trauma, UUUHHHHHHHH, accidentally starting a gang, but still deserves mention, i do think that they kinda show personalities though, i mean its not as gorey as it could be, if i missed anything i should tag, its like eleven at night dude, just yell at me in the comments and ill fix it, not really - Freeform, of the pov character yknow?, these get kinda rambly not gonna lie, uuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25562788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine/pseuds/Storm_Clouds_and_Starshine
Summary: Another dual tale, of two knights inducted at around the same time: one who protects others for the sake of those he couldn't, and one who joins an order of Knights for company and an end to lonliness.
Series: in the air of the earth we are home [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1694707
Comments: 5
Kudos: 3





	1. The Castle

**Author's Note:**

> ive had these finished for several weeks but never posted them until now. oops  
> also like ive said in the tags PLEASE ask me if you want me to tag something, its almost eleven PM and my brain isnt working that great so i've probably forgotten something important and i don't want to hurt people, even by accident
> 
> also hi do i know what i'm doing? no. am i doing it anyways? yes
> 
> so yknow that case in cyber sleuth where you gotta get shells from a bunch of shakomon to give to that numemon who used the shells to evolve to a karatukinumemon (shellnumemon)? yeah so. what. happened to the shakomon?? did they die? they probably died or at least were very hurt since it was implied you were taking the shells that were attached to their skin. the bit in the beginning is just me. using that idea. press f for those eight shakomon who did nothing but exist,,  
> anyways numemon don't get rights

He was a very small Shakomon. He had been a small Pukamon, and a small Pitchmon. He liked to think that he at least had a big heart, even if he was kind of tiny. His cousin, another Shakomon, said that he was too nice for his own good. Shakomon liked to disagree, though.

  
  


Except now he was starting to think that  _ maybe _ he has been a little too trusting because there were Numemon all around him and his siblings were scared, and he was the first one to hatch from the clutch so he had to protect them. 

  
  


The numemon surrounded all ten of the Shakomon, all of the shelled digimon in a circle with their backs against each other, the younger ones with their shells closed almost entirely from the fear. Shakomon had heard about what Numemon did to any Shakomon that got caught on their own -  _ all _ of the Shakomon had heard about what Numemon did to Shakomon. 

  
  


Later on, he would say that the thing he remembered most about those few moments was the Numemon grabbing his younger siblings, pulling at their slime-like bodies and their hard keratin shells, and the pulling and his little brothers and sisters and siblings’ screams of fear and pain and pain. His own evolution was something he would nearly forget, the process quick and barely noticed as he just desperately tried to stop the  _ wave _ of Numemon.

  
  


But that was later on. Currently he could do nothing but watch, and yell, and scream, because evolved, Coelamon or not, his little brothers and sisters and siblings were crying, and there were too many Numemon to hold them down even as they all tried to hide in their shells or squirm away, too many hands prying open the shells and prying the shells off, golden blood flowing in a mess and flowing everywhere as his little siblings and sisters and brothers were literally torn apart. Coelamon was desperate, and he knew, he  _ knew _ , that there was no way to get out of this experience with all of his siblings alive. Still, he  _ tried _ , oh he tried, snapping and swiping and attacking the Numemon that went after the smallest ones, the kindest ones, the ones who would be least likely to protect themselves.

  
  


He failed. 

  
  


He failed and he would not forget those screams  _ ever _ , those screams that echoed and sobbed and he hated his powerlessness. All of his nine clutchmates, dead, the slime-bodies discarded to burst into data with golden blood still on the grass being the only evidence that they had existed. The Numemon had no remorse, instead turning on each other and all clamoring to get a shell, all of the hundred of them wanting one of the nine shells that were there.

  
  


Coelamon decided that he hated Numemon, and KaratukiNumemon, and Geremon, and BlackKingNumemon, and GiganticNumemon, and PlatinumNumemon, and GoldNumemon, and any other digimon that was related to Numemon. He hated them, and he hated them, and he hated, hated,  _ hated _ them, that entire species and type of digimon.

  
  


His cousin, Seadramon, said that he was lucky to have evolved and lived. Coelamon looked at Seadramon and said, in a voice that held no emotion and yet too much emotion at once, that he wished that he had not evolved, so that he could have at least died with his siblings instead of being cursed to live with their screams in his memory for the rest of his life.

  
  


Coelamon had. . . gotten into an argument, with his cousin, and they didn’t talk for a few hundred years. He wandered some. He wandered a lot.

  
  


For a while, he would kill any Numemon that he came across. He didn’t care about any of their pleading or asking why. He simply killed them, a well-aimed  _ Variable Darts _ and  _ Kamitsuki _ making quick work of the digimon. They deserved no honorable death. Any KaratkukiNumemon he came across got more . . .  _ vicious _ deaths. For a while all he did was wander, and kill, and sleep and eat. For a while he had no sense of self, too caught up in grieving and trauma and wondering why he had lived when his siblings had not.

  
  


He didn’t know an exact day, but at some point Coelamon had wandered into a small village of sorts. There were many, many machine-like digimon. The village grew into a town, and Coelamon decided that maybe he would try staying, for a while. Try having a home. The town grew and grew, and Coelamon stayed, helping and trying to do something to make up for all those years of wandering and killing and not knowing who he was.

  
  


He befriended a group of Hagurumon and Guardromon. They were all nice. There was a Mugendramon as well, one of the oldest ones in the newly-grown city.

  
  


At one point he sat, using her leg as a seat, the metal warm from her movements. Mugendramon did not seem to mind. Still, she did look at him. “Something on your mind?”

  
  


“Just thinking.” He answered. “I’m . . . not entirely sure of who I am.”

  
  


“Hmm.” Mugendramon hummed in thought (or maybe it was just her circuitry humming, as machines often did when awake and powered on). “I don’t know much about you, but. . . I think that even if you don’t know who you were yesterday, or who you are in this second, you can decide who you  _ want _ to be in the future - even in the next few seconds, if you want.”

  
  


Coelamon sat, and thought about that. “You’re right.” He told her, a few moments later. “I  _ can _ decide who I want to be.”

  
  


Mugendramon churred in a sound of amusement, before lifting herself out of her sitting position. “I’m glad to have helped. I’ll need to go take care of the flowers now, though, dear. Do take care.” With that said she ambled off, though Coelamon didn’t mind. Many people came and went in the city.

  
  


With that in mind, Coelamon decided that he wanted to be someone who  _ helped _ . He did not want to be a killer. He wanted to be a protector. And so that was what he tried to do. He couldn’t bright back those he’d killed from the dead, but he could at least protect the lives of whoever else was there. He chose a section of the city, and declared that that section of the city was  _ his _ section of the city, and that he was going to protect anyone in that section of the city and he’d do whatever he could to stop any crime in that one particular section of the city. 

  
  


Unsurprisingly, he ended up settling into the city quite firmly after several hundred years, and evolved along the way. He was pretty sure that no one was expecting him to evolve into an  _ Andromon _ of all things, but regardless, Andromon did his best. He liked to think that he did a good job. He even protected the Numemon, as much as he  _ hated _ the species. 

  
  


Honestly the years passed relatively the same. The city continued to grow, as cities did, and his group of friends had somehow ended up joining him in being as fiercely protective of his section of the city as Andromon was. He wasn’t sure how that happened. He didn’t mind it, though. Someone would need to protect the city when he was gone. Maybe there would even be other groups, who knew.

  
  


At some point he evolved again. His Craniummon form was still small (or at least he’d assume so - he didn’t really know any other Craniummon). Megadramon, one of the members of his group of friends that’d been nicknamed “Metal Empire” (Craniummon would admit that it had been Megadramon who came up with the name), said that Craniummon was a Vaccine who looked like a Virus. Craniummon agreed. 

  
  


Regardless. The Metal Empire (fancy name that it was) ended up adopting. . . a  _ lot _ of younger, smaller digimon into the group.  _ Good _ . Young ones needed a good home, and the large building that had been made the base of operations for the group was a good a place as any for them to make into home. 

  
  


One day Megadramon came running (well. . . flying) up to Craniummon, with a digimon that Craniummon didn’t know next to them. Megadramon gestured to Tyilinmon once they’d gotten close enough to Craniummon. “This is Magnamon.” the cyborg dragon introduced, with a gesture at the smaller gold-armored dragon. 

  
  


“Hello.” Craniummon greeted. “I’m Craniummon, the head - of sorts - of the Metal Empire, the group that works in this section of the city to protect those who can’t protect themselves as much.”

  
  


“Greetings.” Said Magnamon. “I am Magnamon, leader of the Royal Knights, who work together with other figures of authority to ensure peace in the Digital World. I have a proposition to make to you.”

  
  


Which was how Craniummon ended up being recruited into the Royal Knights. Of all the things in his life, it was one of the  _ least _ significant. In a sense. Significant in that he now was part of a greater organization, yes, but less significant in that he had been through many other things in his life and at this point would accept whatever happened, not really treating anything as being more or less important.

  
  


It was nice to meet Mugendramon again, when he’d come across her while walking in the expansive gardens of the castle, alongside a crimson-armored knight named Crusadermon.

  
  


Still. Craniummon liked to think that he’d done good, in the life he’d lived, or at least enough good to balance out the bad that he had done. And he would live with that, and try to do better.


	2. Target

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hello tis i  
> like i said these chapters should have been posted one after another, wheee
> 
> in other news i find it neat that the blade-tail that reppamon has apparently is able to talj, but doesn't share a mind with reppamon themself, so the tail and reppamon don't always agree. it's pretty neat yknow?

Botamon had hatched. He had hatched, and he had bounced around, and he had evolved.

  
  


Wanyamon had evolved, and had fur, and bounced around again. He moved and moved and didn't stay in one place for long.

  
  


Kudamon had evolved, in the halls of some ancient stone castle-like place, curled around a scroll-like cartridge he'd happened to stumble upon. Or, rather, he had stumbled upon the cartridge, only to evolve and find that his new form was wrapped around the thing, highly enough that it should not slip out from the furred, half-void coils of his long tail-body. His first and only attempt to uncoil himself from the thing was met with sudden and intense nausea and revulsion and every inch of his body screaming at him to  _ not do that _ . 

  
  


The ferret-like Digimon vomited and decided that he would never let go of that cartridge again. A wise decision, really.

  
  


So, with that done, he set about to traveling again. The ancient castle-place was extensive and expansive. He had only arms and a tail-body, but arms were more than he had had before, so it made movement easier than otherwise. He traveled all through the great castle, exploring and exploring and exploring. 

  
  


The castle was very big. But that was okay, because it let him explore more than a smaller place would.

  
  


He evolved to Reppamon in an act that was more out of survival than anything. A large stack of scrolls had looked unstable, but he'd poked around them anyways, wanting to know what secrets they held. Choosing from the bottom was a  _ bad _ idea - there were many many scrolls and he had only two arms - until he scampered backwards on his four new ones, blade-tail scraping on and curating through the stone a small bit.

  
  


_ You shouldn't chose from the bottom of the stack _ . The blade-tail was snarky it seemed. "Hush you." Is what Reppamon told it (or told the eye on it at least, he wasn't entirely sure how much was living or not).

  
  


More exploring. More exploring, more searching. This time when he came across a stack of scrolls he took from the top. Though he couldn't read that well in his Reppamon form, with the mask over his eyes - so he reverted to Kudamon whenever he wanted to read. It worked.

  
  


Reppamon was lonely, though. He had his blade-tail, but the tail was less of another being, and more some more hidden facet of his own mind, the parts that slept further in the back of his mind. The tail spoke whether or not he wanted it to, though. He did not know the thoughts of the blade-tail until it spoke - so perhaps it was similar to having another being, but it still was lonely.

  
  
  


“It’s quiet here.” The tail-blade said one day, when Reppamon had been dozing, a pile of scrolls in front of his paws.

  
  


“Hmm?” Reppamon turned, to look at the blade-tail (as best as he could with no eyes). “I suppose it is.”

  
  


“You’re lonely.” Ah, the blade-tail - ever so blunt and snarky.

  
  


Reppamon sighed, a great gust of breath blowing a few scrolls away some small bit. Or he hoped it was only a small bit - it would be more difficult to find them again with only a nose and ears and whiskers to find the right scrolls. 

  
  


“You know you can leave this place.” The tail-blade said again. “You can leave whenever. You don’t have to stay here.”

  
  


“I don’t.” Reppamon agreed. “But. . .”

  
  


“You’re afraid of leaving the one safe place you know.” The blade-tail finished for him, never afraid to speak the things that Reppamon did not want to admit to himself.

  
  


The fox-like digimon said nothing. Then, quietly, he spoke. “This is true. I am lonely. And I am attached to this place, with it being safe and the one place I have known for the many years of my life.” He sighed, and stretched out somewhat, so that his muzzle was once again pressed against the pile of scrolls rather than facing the blade-tail. “But what am I supposed to  _ do _ ?”

  
  


“I don’t know.” The blade-tail answered. “I don’t have all the answers. I only have the answers that you have.”

  
  


“Well, that was helpful.” Reppamon muttered.

  
  


The blade-tail laughed in its haunting, ethereal way that sounded both grounded in reality and completely detached. “And here I thought I was the only one to be voice to that sarcastic piece of you that you’ve hidden down without knowing.”

  
  


“It’s not like I hid it on  _ choice _ .” Reppamon fired back. “You’re those parts of me that I have hidden away, but how am I to have any control over what my mind hides and tricks myself into believing?”

  
  


“That is the cause of the issue, isn’t it?” the blade-tail laughed, metal vibrating slightly with the force of its echoing howls. “Admit it to yourself, that you have been hiding without realizing. That is what this castle is, is it not? A place to hide. That is why I am here, to voice that which you have deluded yourself into thinking that you cannot.”

  
  


“ _ Hush _ , you!” Reppamon snapped. “I don’t want to hear it!”

  
  


“But you must. You must, for you must know the truth to live any further, to live the life that you long for. You can only hide for so long, Reppamon.”

  
  


“I  _ know _ !” He howled, desperately, and the sound echoed in the large chambers of the old castle room. “I know. I know that I have been hiding from my own truths. I know that I have been lying to myself. I am afraid, of leaving the place I know to be safe, of wandering into an outside world that I do not know. I am afraid of who I cannot pretend not to be, of who I might be. I am afraid and I need you because without you I have no way to see what I have blinded myself to.” He spoke the words in a rush, and they got louder as he spoke them, and when he had finished he stood, facing some direction that he could not see, fur raised on end and limbs trembling. “But I’m scared, and I want to get out of this cycle of pretending and having you tell me my flaws.”

  
  


Another laugh from the blade-tail. “You’ve accepted that which you had been hiding from. That is evidence of having done my work correctly.”

  
  


And Reppamon was surrounded by light that he could not see but he could feel, and Reppamon felt the light sing through his blood.

  
  


Tyilinmon stood, on new hooves, with wings that were feathered, and whiskers made of light, a single horn resting on his forehead, and a tail of long curled hair. He stood, and faced the entrance and exit of the castle, long since unused. And he stepped forwards, and out.

  
  


The world that Tyilinmon wandered through was a strange one. It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t good either. It simply was. He supposed it wasn’t all too meaningless, though. He found an off sort of place, firing  _ Holy Wave _ after  _ Holy Wave _ to guide those who had fallen down darker paths to paths that were lighter ones. Which was worth something.

  
  


The snark that his blade-tail has displayed ended up making its way to his own mouth. Tyilinmon was not surprised. He had promised not to hide, after all. So he didn’t.

  
  


Compared to the long stretch between his Reppamon and Tyilinmon forms, his evolution to Sleipmon was a rather quick one. He was not sure if it was some hidden test of character that he had passed without knowing, or if he simply was meant to gain the form by aging passively. Regardless, he continued to do what he had been doing - sort of wander around, helping others towards a less dark path while snarking at them all the while.

  
  


He had heard of the Royal Knights, and of their mission to protect those who lived in the Digital World. He supposed it was a noble enough goal. He had also heard that they listened to a god named Yggdrasil, who gave them their orders of what it was that they were to do, but he wasn’t as sure about the validity of that particular rumor. Regardless, he supposed it was not that surprising when one of their members came and offered him a chance to join the group. A knight, in crimson and gold armor.

  
  


“What is your name?” Was the first thing he asked them.

  
  


“I am Crusadermon.” She answered. “Why do you ask?”

  
  


“I am Sleipmon,” he told her, “and it is so that I can refer to you with the correct name for the rest of time, unless you should decide to change yours.” 

  
  


“That is fair enough.” She had said, and then she had offered him a position among the ranks of the Royal Knights.

“Why should I accept?” He asked. “I have made my peace doing my work here. Is there any use for my settling down?”

  
  


“Company?” The Knight offered, after a few minutes, likely wondering why someone would seem so disinterested in joining ranks that many would kill (quite literally) to be included in.

  
  


“Hmm.” Company was tempting, yes. He did not forget those many, many lonely years inside of the old, forgotten castle, crumbling away. “Company would be nice, yes.”

  
  


“So you will join?” Crusadermon sounded hopeful. She also sounded a bit naive, but eh - many did, and many did not have that sort of cynicism that came from a part of your own mind laying out your flaws and burdens.

  
  


“I might as well.” Sleipmon decided, eventually. “I will be able to at least have more influence to back my words when I tell idiots to shut up about their whining over stupid things.”

  
  


Crusadermon muffled a snort, and Sleipmon offered her a rare grin. “So. To that fancy, well-built castle that you Knights have, yes? I want to know if it is as magnificent as stories say, or if it is simply another building.”

  
  


“I assure you, the Castle of Hyperion is as grand as stories say.” 

  
  


“We shall see.” Sleipmon replied, and together the two of them began walking back towards the Castle of Hyperion - one older Knight, and one who would be newly Knighted.

**Author's Note:**

> im putting the two chapters of this up one after another so if you see this end note when theres only one chapter, congrats! you got here quick! if not then dont worry, you're fine
> 
> anyways i made myself write craniummon's first because sleipmon's story is gonna be vaguely important in _there's no worth (to this unending day)_ , at least in the sense that it would add additional background to him so you can kinda get Why He Is The Way He Is, and some references, because Noodle Weasel Boy is gonna get yeeted into the "main" fic. this series is technically a side series after all! important for background and such but not necessarily where the actual Chaos of it all begins. (if you ask it's because _there's no worth_ was started earlier and then i thought "oh since i'm planning on tying these various sections of them all together at the end i should provide some background and stuff so that when they all get tired together you can have more understanding and stuff". kinda like a breadcrumbs story, but also partly "everything ties together in little ways that you dont get until the end". and of course i ramble about half of the spoilers away in the end notes but who reads these, honestly? the people who reads these stories? who reads these stories anyways? for all i know i've been shouting into the void about this au that i cooked up and can't get my brain to shut up about
> 
> for those of you who are reading this mess of an au: thank you very much! i am very very sorry that it is this chaotic. my advice is blame rina, without her this whole au could have been strictly an adventure 02 au, but then i threw her in and now somehow i'm rambling about it in the end notes of a fic that provides a backstory for the royal knights from cyber sleuth in the cyber sleuth part of this au. funny how that happens


End file.
